True Heart (19 page)

Waving half of the coconut under her nose, he grinned. “Are you thoroughly captivated?”

Her mind silly with the joy of the moment, what could she say but the truth? “Yes.”

“Then I
was
flirting with you.”

“What if I had said no?”

“I would have admitted to no more than conversational prying.”

Which was exactly what she was doing. Cloaked in a playful mood the repartee seemed harmless, but that was deceptive and dangerous. Much more of his charm and she'd give herself away.

From his money pouch, Cameron paid the vendor. “Send the coconuts, apples, and . . .” He paused, soliciting her preference.

Her mouth watered. “The melons.”

“And the melons—all of them—to my ship, the
Maiden Virginia.”
Pausing, he glanced down at her. “So named for this fair flower of Scotland.”

Virginia blushed to her toes. How much sweeter could this man get, and how could she keep up the facade in the face of so much male charm? An answer escaped her.

The commerce concluded, Cameron accompanied her to the bookstore, the chandler, and the smithy, where she purchased her own flint and steel.

At the fishmonger's stall, a commotion broke out. A child wailed, a young boy shouted in alarm. The fishmonger stood over the children, his eyes blazing, a terrified kitten clutched in his beefy hand. With a flex of his fingers, he could crush the little cat.

“Off with you ruffians,” he yelled at the children. “Your mousers ate yesterday's profit. And this one”—he shook the kitten—“this one still bears a cut on its nose from the pinch of one of my crabs. Reckon I could use this one for bait.”

“Oh, no, please,” the lad begged. “She's the only one left from the litter.” He opened his hand. “See? We got a penny each for the others.”

The frightened cat began to wail too. The monger shook the poor thing again. “More fool he who pays good coin for nonsense. It ain't worth a penny alive.”

Virginia dashed forward. “I'll give you a penny if you will not hurt that cat.”

He slung the cat. Virginia gasped. Limbs sprawled, eyes bulging, claws bared, the poor thing flew through the air toward her. Even before she caught it, Virginia winced. But when the needlelike claws sunk into her breast, she yelped.

Cameron cursed and reached for the cat.

“Wait.” In a soft voice, she tried to comfort the kitten. In response, the terrified bundle of fur crawled up her chest and clung to her shoulder.

Cameron snatched up a herring and shoved it under the kitten's nose. Hunger won out over fear, and the cat latched onto the fish. Cameron put both down. The tiny kitten tried to drag its catch away, but the fish was twice its size.

The lad soothed his sibling until the little girl quieted. In dirty, chubby fingers she held an empty basket.

“You've bought yourself a kitten, Virginia.”

“Oh, no.” She had only wanted to prevent a cruelty to the animal. Pets were unthinkable. In the spring of her thirteenth year, she'd gotten attached to a crippled duckling. The overseer had killed it for his Christmas dinner. This kitten she could save.

Cameron was frowning. To the lad, he said, “She comes from mouser stock?”

“The best in the tidewater, sir.”

“I just so happen to be in need of a ship's cat.”

“She'll make a fine one, sir. Girls make the best mousers.”

His sister giggled.

Cameron handed the boy a half crown. At the sight of the coin, the lad's mouth dropped open.

Pushing the money into the boy's hand, Cameron said, “I'll need the basket as well.”

“For that much, you can have my sister too.”

The girl screwed up her face and yelled.

“I didn't mean it, Hixup.”

To bear out her name, the girl was suddenly beset with hiccoughs.

Stunned, Virginia watched the exchange of money for goods. Then Cameron pried the kitten from the fish and, dodging bared claws, shoved it into the basket. Over what could only be called caterwauling, he fastened the bone latch on the basket's flap to keep the animal inside. “Would you care to trade?”

He had said he wouldn't carry her basket. The troll. “How thoroughly male and generous of you.”

“Why, thank you.”

Smug troll. Parcels switched, they headed back the way they'd come.

“Why didn't you want the cat?”

What could she say? The truth begged to be spoken, and because that wasn't an option, she managed a part of it. “I couldn't be sure that I could keep it at Agnes's home.”

“You could stay with me in Glasgow.”

It was scandalous the way he baited her. “Does Agnes like cats?”

His sly grin told her he was aware of her switch in conversation. “If the cat were yours, she would tolerate it, but I bought the creature—”

“Creature?” She reached for the basket. “I'll buy it back from you.”

He held it up, out of her reach. “A trade suits me better.”

Oh, Lord. What would he ask for? She didn't know enough about the workings of polite society to carry on the jesting game with an adult Cameron. Fortunately, she could tell the truth about that. “I will not go down a path of intimacy with you.”

“Then name the path you will travel with me.”

“Friendship.”

She might have told him she'd inherited the British Isles so broadly did he smile. “Splendid.” He slipped the handle of the basket over her arm and took the parcel containing her personal items of clothing and violet-scented soap. He looked at ease, as if he often carried the intimate clothing of ladies. But that was unfair. For a promise of cordiality from her, he'd given her a kitten, and she was too excited about having a pet of her own to argue.

The sound of her father's voice calling her name stopped her. She looked at Cameron, and his expression turned stormy. She followed the line of his vision and saw Papa coming toward them, his strides long and angry. Beside him, MacAdoo hurried to keep pace.

“Why is he angry, Cameron?”

“Because he's overprotective. He's the chieftain of his clan. He's a duke to the English.” He shook his head and expelled a breath. “Shall I go on?”

Not even when she'd used his best sporran to gather bugs for her pet lizard had her father shown such anger.

“He'll not be angry with you. I should have told him that I was taking you shopping.”

No. Cameron had always borne the brunt of Papa's lectures, no matter if Virginia had played a part, which was often the case. She'd been too young and selfish to stand up for herself. Not any more.

Before he could unleash his fury on Cameron, Virginia stepped between them. Smiling brightly, she held up the basket. “Look, Papa, Cameron bought me a kitten. What should I name her?”

Only slightly distracted, he didn't answer but glared at Cameron, who was almost a head taller.

“Papa, you cannot be angry because Cameron took me shopping. He offered to carry my purchases . . . even the ladies things.”

The bundle fell to the grass. Handing Cameron the basket, she scooped up the parcel and took her father's hand. “Very generous of him, wouldn't you say?” Her father said nothing. Glancing back at Cameron, she gave him a wink. “Oh, goodness, Papa. I've embarrassed him.”

Cameron chuckled as she led her father away, but the sound held as much humor as her father's expression.

“Doubtless you've embarrassed him, lassie,” her father said with overdone sarcasm. “Everyone knows Cunningham's a stranger to a lady's toilette.”

Feeling out of her depth, she chided herself for broaching the subject in mixed company. “Where are we going?”

“Back to the inn, where you'll stay unless a family member accompanies you.”

But Cameron was “family” to her; he had always been. “We're friends, Papa.”

“ 'Twill go no farther than that, I assure you, until we're home.”

Part of her thrived on his attention, but she'd been on her own for too long. For ten years she'd sought permission for the most basic of life's needs. With freedom came volition, and she intended to exercise her own. Yet she owed her father an explanation.

“Papa, I have never been to Norfolk. I hadn't the means to—”

“Bloody hell!” He faltered, and when he looked at her, his eyes gleamed regret. But not pity, thank heavens. “I'd forgotten, lassie. I did not think about that. Still, you cannot traipse about with Cunningham.”

Loyalty, ingrained and practiced in her youth, urged her on. “Because you are a duke, I cannot have a friend?”

“Because he is a rogue.”

She couldn't help but laugh. “Everyone says the same about you.”

“ 'Tis different.”

He didn't squirm well, but the exchange was so welcome she couldn't let the subject die. “How is it different?”

“I'm not bound to answer you.”

“But you will.”

As if the words were pulled from him, he said, “ 'Tis different because you are my daughter.”

“You gave Agnes to Edward Napier without a fight.”

“Agnes knows what she wants.”

“How do you know that I don't?”

“There's the root of it, isn't it, lassie?” He bore down on her, and she had the distinct impression that he was angry at her for more than not telling him she'd gone off with Cameron. But that was ridiculous; Papa couldn't know that her memory was intact. Almost intact.

Placating him seemed wise. “Forgive me. I shan't go out again without telling you.”

“Good, because I'm trusting Cunningham to take you to Glasgow. Agnes will accompany you—”

“You're not coming with us?”

“No.” He stopped at the tanner's stall and made a show of examining the hides on display. “Napier and I own a factory in Boston.”

His gruffness surprised her. Did he feel guilty about seeing to his own affairs? He'd come a long way to find her, and he'd never been one to shirk his responsibilities. The disappointment tasted bitter, but she'd shouldered worse. She had years to enjoy his company now that she'd been given back her life. Struggling to sound chipper, she said, “Everyone in America knows of Edward Napier. His sliding fan motor revolutionized the tobacco industry.”

Again, he paused. “You sound like Sarah.”

This gentle tone was the one she remembered. Soon Virginia would see the sister who had taught her to count and hold her own with Lottie, Agnes, and Mary. The prospect brought tears to her eyes.

“What's amiss, lass? Would you rather come to Boston?”

“No. Yes. I don't know.” She had assumed they'd all return to Scotland together.

“You sail with Cameron and Agnes. Your mother and I will be there before you can put names to all of the new faces.”

Uncertain of how to proceed, she shifted the bundle. “When do you sail?”

“On the morning tide. Same as you.”

“Cameron said nothing about leaving tomorrow.”

“Oh, well, it must have slipped his mind. Have you more errands?”

She didn't believe him, and now he'd changed the subject. Or perhaps Cameron followed her father's orders. No, she couldn't picture that.

“I've arranged for a private dining room. Your mother's meeting with the cook.”

“Does Mama know we're leaving tomorrow?” She hadn't mentioned it earlier.

“Aye, that's why we want you there.”

All she could think to say was, “I'll miss you.”

He draped an arm over her shoulder. “By harvest next, you'll be calling me overbearing.”

It will come a little at a time. She took that pledge to heart. By harvesttime, she'd have told him the truth and begged his forgiveness. They'd be on even footing, as they had in her childhood. Now she must hold back and play the role of stranger.

“I hope I shan't give you reason to bear down on me. I hope to make you proud.”

“You will, lass, when the time is right.”

She had the oddest notion that he knew the truth.

She changed her mind during the evening meal.

Over a feast of cloved ham and cabbages, steamed crab and creamy oyster stew, the family laughed and shared each other's follies. Nestled around a plank oak table in a private dining room, the table set with ironed linens and Irish crystal, Virginia sat beside Cameron and listened to story after story.

Agnes revealed that Cameron had gotten so drunk in Canton he'd boarded a ship bound for San Francisco. With the Emperor's guard for escort, she had rescued Cameron before the anchor was weighed.

After losing a year-long battle with the collegians in Edinburgh, Sarah was sponsoring an orphaned lad at Glasgow University.

Against great opposition, Lottie managed to get a Hanoverian to visit Tain.

In London, Mary had marked the occasion of Cameron's father's first day in the House of Commons. In cartoon she pictured Sir Myles Cunningham dressed in an elegant suit of black velvet. He stood in the hallowed chamber surrounded by Englishmen wearing kilts and sporrans. The absurdity of English nobility honoring the tartans of Scotland brought new scandal to Mary. The telling of the story kept Virginia and her family laughing through dessert.